The Shadow Isle - Katharine Kerr [143]
Salamander had just started down the staircase when he saw Neb, waiting at the foot. His quasi-apprentice hurried halfway up to join him.
“A question for you,” Neb said. “I want to tell Branna what I realized, about my wyrd, I mean. Sometimes I can—” He paused to look around him but no one stood close enough to overhear. “Sometimes I can reach her, if you know what I mean. Would it be all right if I tried? I wanted to get your permission first.”
He’s saved! was Salamander’s first thought, and the second, We’ve won. Aloud he said, “You have it, but only with Branna. She’s your wife, and you’re deeply linked to boot, and so I doubt if talking with her in this manner would cause either of you any strain or possible trouble. No one else, mind!”
“I understand, and my thanks.”
Neb turned and rushed up the stairs, taking them two at a time. Salamander smiled at his retreating back, then more slowly went on down.
Since Clae would be one of the many pages serving the feast in the great hall, Neb had their chamber to himself. He climbed onto the bed, drew the bedcurtains for further privacy, and sat cross-legged in the middle of the lumpy mattress. When he thought of Branna, he saw her, perched on the windowsill of the chamber they’d shared in her uncle’s dun. Dressed only in her thin shift, she was combing out her long blonde hair by candlelight. His longing for her became a physical ache.
“Neb?” she thought to him. “What are you doing?”
“It’s all right,” he thought back. “Salamander gave me permission to contact you this way. Branni, Branni, I love you so much!”
“I love you, too. I wish you were here.”
“We’ll be together again soon. But I’ve got somewhat to tell you straightaway. I’ve found my wyrd. The dweomer and healing— that’s what I want to study. They go together somehow, I’m sure of it. I was rowing down the wrong river before, but I’ve found the right one now.”
Her joy rose up like the light from the candle. It seemed to him that he could see it, a bright glow around her like a vast golden cloud, rising to cover her.
“I—” he began. “Oh, curse it all!” he said aloud. “That broke the stupid link!”
Try though he did, he never managed to reestablish the link between them. He still had a very long way to go in his studies, he realized, and a burden of work ahead of him, no matter how clearly he saw the end result.
For now his work lay with Gerran. When Neb returned to the lord’s chamber, he found Nicedd waiting patiently.
“Go eat,” Neb said.
“My thanks,” Nicedd said. “My appetite’s returned, finally. That was a grim bit of work you did. Gives a man’s stomach a turn, like.”
Neb laughed, and Nicedd made an attempt at a smile before he hurried out. Gerran lay asleep on his stomach, his head pillowed on his folded arms. The wound still looked clean, Neb was relieved to see. The fringe of red lines around the bruise had mostly disappeared. He was considering how to bandage it when Clae returned, carrying bread and beef in a wooden bowl.
“I told Nicedd I’d bring you dinner,” Clae said.
His brother’s voice was tinged with fear, Neb realized, and his eyes looked up at him warily.
“Is somewhat wrong?” Neb said.
“Uh, Neb? That light around your hand—”
“What light? You mean when Salamander came in with all these candles?”
Clae hesitated, puzzled.
“You had a long hard ride home,” Neb went on, “you must be truly tired.”
“I am. And I was ever so worried about my lord.” Clae thought this through for a long moment. “You know, I think I was seeing things that weren’t there.”
“I wouldn’t be surprised. It’s naught to be ashamed of. Here, when I’ve done eating, I’m going to bandage up the wound. You and Gerran both will